All Our Yesterdays
by Mondlerfan101
Summary: He lost everything he ever had, except for one person. How long will it take for him to lose her too? Chandler battles responsibility, loss, love and a lot more that I can't name. HUGE AU! Rating may change. DISCONTINUED!
1. Thinking of Carter

My eyes burn from lack of sleep. Each morning is another fight to live as I force myself away from rest. My muscles ache as they leave the paralyzed form they were once in. Nothing seems to improve besides the fact I now have a visible six pact on my chest.

A pair of headphones hook up to an MP3 that is strapped to my arm. The cord hits my damp clothes with every step I take. The rhythm moving through my body until it reaches my toes; bringing a jump to my step.

The adrenaline in my system picks up and I find myself taking seconds off my mile as I round the corner.

The air blows behind me as I take a deep breath. My mind is cleared as my attention is on the blasting music in my ears.

When friends find out I run 4 miles each morning as a hobby I get asked a lot of questions.

First: "If I'm training for a marathon?"

I'm not training for anything special nor do I plan to in the future. Running is a slow addiction, it's a thrill I found myself doing in grade school. Carter keeps telling me to go to the gym, but I can't. I loathe running indoors. Especially on a track, it's just not the same...feels absolutely depressing.

Second: "What do I think about?"

Thinking isn't hard to do, it's shutting your mind off that's the tricky part. Still, before my mind goes completely blank I do think about things. I think about family. I think about Carter and her future; I think about my future. Where I see myself in a few years time. But most of the time I think about the past. The sacrifices I've made to have everything I need today. My dads smile when he watched me score home in T-ball and the last thing my mom said to me. Like I said, it's easy to think.

For me, running is about getting away from everything else and listening to the sounds of nature, being able to smell the trees and fresh air. To feel the ground, grass, and mud beneath your feet. My favorite part though, is to be able to see the sky above and feel the morning sun start to heat up the day ahead.

The last thing someone expects to hear is that running is relaxing. But you don't know the true feeling of a 5 a.m jog until you pull yourself from the comfort of your sheets and actually begin.

My calves start to tighten as I find my speed. The morning dew still settles on the freshly cut grass in the park, damping the front of my Nikes.

Sometimes I wish I had someone running beside me. But then again, it's nice to get away.

Trying every morning to get Carter to come with me never seems to work out. I usually get the same response - a groggily noise coming from under her sheets - _"I'm not a runner. If there was an award for running I'd receive 'the snails pace'"_.

I blame myself for her sarcasm.

My heart pounds to the beat of my feet racing over the hard ground. Sweat beads my forehead, causing my hair to cling to it as my throat aches for air, more air. The delicious rush of wind passes my face, thrilling me. My muscles stretch, pushing harder. My pace evens out and my legs make the gravel road fly under me.

The sun begins to peak over the buildings in the distance causing the night to slowly fade away.

Pushing harder, I find the need to get in that last quarter mile before making my way back home. I can hear the noise of the morning city coming alive as the early commuters start their day. Despite the headphones in my ears, the music doesn't stop me from feeling the morning excitement.

Looking down at my watch I see the time flash. I've still got an hour before Carter even has to think about getting ready for school. If I make it home in 10 minute that will give me enough time to shower and hopefully slip in a quick nap.

On my way back through the city I pass the business man walking down to the subway, awaiting his transportation. A mother hands her kid a healthy sack lunch as she gets on the school bus. And finally...wait, where's the college student?

My head whips to the side as I see a door open and a frustrated young man approach. He frantically tries locking the door to his apartment building before racing down the welcoming steps.

Smiling to myself I give him a nod. "Been there." He just replies with an irritated look.

Understandable, I shrug.

Each morning I pass the same three type of people on my way back home. Their morning routine is something I can imagine just by a quick glance in their direction.

The business man who wakes up an hour early to take a decent shower. Then on his way out regularly checks the hundred dollar watch supporting his right wrist as his left hand grips his briefcase. No matter how long his shower takes you can still see the oil he applies to his nicely combed hair that barely covers the bald spot in the back.

Mothers wake their tired children as they get their school clothes out. The lunch they make consisting of a crusted sandwich, apple slices and some fruit snacks. Although they don't show it in front of the kids you can tell by the bags under their eyes that they have been up all night banking paychecks only to be sent straight to the electric bills.

I can always tell the slackers from the honor roll students also. I don't know, I guess we can call it a gift. Usually the college students that hit their snooze button for the third time, trying to get in another few minutes before walking through campus, stick out pretty well. By the look on their face you can tell the lecture hall they need to be at in 5 minutes is farthest away from their dorm room and most likely crowded with seats only available in the front row.

I wasn't planning on attending college myself, but my grandmother wouldn't accept that choice. She is the one that pushed me for A's and signed off on all my scholarships. We stayed up for nights that never seemed to end just filling out applications. A few of those nights I'd find myself drifting off in the chair, others times, it was my grandmother. Sometimes she'd wake me up gently. As for her, I'd let her rest as I locked up the house and checked on Carter one last time.

If it wasn't for my grandmother I wouldn't be where I am right now; for many reasons than I can count.

Spotting my street just a few stoplights away, I begin to slow my speed and start my cool-down phase.

I try to get my breath back to it's original pace while I jog in place in the middle of a crowded intersection, waiting to cross.

 _Just a little further._ I tell myself, when I begin to feel the ache grow stronger.

My eyes drift shut before they slowly open again. I get a few stares from a group of ladies off to the side as one of them starts to giggle. I watch from the corner of my eye as the other two try to push her this way. But much to my relief she doesn't budge.

I'm not as shy as I use to be. If she came over here I would talk to her. Although I'm sure that wouldn't go very far. Maybe a drink or a small dinner date, but that's all I see happening. It's the commitment thing that pulls women away. My parents had an amazing relationship, and so did my grandparents; they aren't the cause for this. It's my baby sister that worries me. The idea of living up to her approval and making sure she doesn't feel abandoned is why I'm still single and making grilled cheese sandwiches twice a week. We are extremely close and never in a light-year do I think about leaving her side to chase after a girl that may, or may not, be in my future. Carter is all I have, and I'm all she looks up too; nothing will come between that.

The WALK sign signals and the crowd slowly steps off the curb. Flashing a quick smile in their direction I move forward as the the timer counts down.

I'm coming to a close with my morning run and it's not long before my feet finally slow to a stop.

My chest heavies for a few seconds as I pace back and forth in front of my door. My hands go up to rest on my side where I can feel abs forming on my chest.

Carter finds it disgusting when I show her. Although, I think that's because the view of her brothers chest hair making a line straight down to his belly button is kind of gross. I often think of shaving it but a bare chest doesn't seem to suit me.

It's not like I have a girlfriend to ask what she prefers.

Hair? No hair? Hair? No hair?

I think it's safe to say women like their men with hair.

Walking up the stairs of my building I make sure not to go extremely slow the way I find myself doing most mornings.

The stairs get easier every day the more I run. Four years ago I would have never taken the stairs willingly. Of course, four years ago I wasn't running. Carter was only 8 years old and I never felt comfortable leaving her alone the way I do now.

However, I needed to run. I use to run as a kid to clear the bad memories and I needed to run four years ago to forget about my grandmothers passing. I pushed as best I could to make that happen.

The first few months I called Elizabeth, our next door neighbor, to stay with her for an hour until I got back. Her and Carter use to hang out and for awhile she acted as a motherly figure. Although nothing would ever come between us, she's a senior in high school and I'm nearing 30.

A little while later the calls stopped as she prepared for college and packed up. I would have called Mrs. Crimbleton from downstairs but Carter begged me not to.

I believe that we are in a secured building with trusting neighbors so I never made that phone call. Plus, nothing was reported back from Elizabeth during the times that she _did_ watch Carter.

After all this I still found time to run.

At first it was hard, the entire time all I could think about was Carter sleeping soundly and someone breaking in. It wasn't just my intuition either; she felt the same way.

The first time I left her alone, I locked the door, put the home phone next to her bed and didn't stay out longer than 30 minutes. I hurried back only to find her sound asleep the way I left her.

I found myself only running once a week, but soon that turned into twice, then a few times, and now it's nearly every single day if I'm not falling over from the night before.

Sleep is something that I need, but I don't think my love for running will ever truly end.

Reaching above the door frame I feel for the gold key.

I suppress a yawn, exhaustion catching up with me, as I push open the door. The lights are off besides the one lamp by the bathroom. Without hesitating I make my way to the shower.

This is my favorite part of the day. The calm morning followed by an icy shower, where I'll stand for 10 minutes just soaking in the cool water as it runs down my spine.

This is my time to think. I get a chance to clear my mind and figure out my next move. For once I'm not moving nor am I rushing to take Carter to school. As far as anyone is concerned, these few minutes are reserved for me.

I cannot describe how fresh it feels taking a cold shower in the morning. It calms my muscles, wakes me up and makes my bed seem twice as comfortable.

More than likely I'll probably just end up slipping into my boxers and falling asleep above the covers. But none of that matters for at least 8 more minutes.

Every freezing drop hits me with surprise - my body still not use to it. The shampoo runs out of my hair leaving only its scent behind as it travels down my body where it disappears past the drainage. My eyes are closed the whole time as I try avoiding the sting of soap when it washes off me. The chilly water gives me shivers but I remain still. The feeling of the water begins to cool down my skin. I don't know where to go from here. I know I should get out, but then what? I could return to my bed and risk over sleeping, or I can return to the kitchen and make myself a cup of coffee.

Slowly I turn off the facet. But I continue to stand there for a while longer, soaking in the moment I have alone. I know I can't stay here all morning as much as I want to. I have things to do, people to see, and before I know it, I'll be hitting that alarm clock as I wake again for another relaxing run.

Sighing one final time I pull back the curtain and grab my towel as I begin drying off my legs, chest and hair before finishing by wrapping the cotton around my waist. Climbing out, I turn off the light and quietly open the door; avoiding any more distractions that might wake Carter.

* * *

 _There have been a lot of people (or it's just been the same person) asking me to post a new story. I wish I could have responded to your reviews sooner but ya'll didn't have accounts. So this is me responding...I've been working on this story since August and I just did a plot twist (in a few chapters you'll see) and have been constantly writing the last few days. I wanted to wait until Thanksgiving to post but I seriously don't think this story will take off like the past. This is me experiencing and seeing if this is a nay or yay? This first chapter I wanna apologize for. I've been tweaking it a lot and it's been a struggle to get my point across. AKA I just left it and I'm moving on._


	2. Carter's Late

The screeching sound pulls me from my nap. The noise is anything but settling as I hug my pillow closer, begging for a few more minutes.

I know I should probably get up, hell, I should be out the door in 5 minutes. Yet nothing is motivating me to move.

The coffee I started after my shower still sits in the pot; cooling with every second it remains untouched.

Running this morning was suppose to clear my mind and prepare me for the day. The day that marks the tenth year where everything in my life changed, the day that I've been dreading for weeks now. I want to forget the moment I lost everything and became responsible. It was years ago but it still managed to hurt like it all happened yesterday. The newspaper report of the missing plane is still hanging on the fridge where it fades to yellow. No one bringing up the courage to take it down.

Eventually I moved on with my life, got a home, a car, a job and other things that were accessible.

My job isn't what I expected the day I got accepted into a university, but then again, nothing in my life is what I expected.

I wanted to be a firefighter, like every little boys dream. I imagined having a single room apartment that was perfect for me, but occasionally the drain would get clogged and so I'd have to fix that with just a pair of pliers and a dirty dishrag. I'd have a Lab named Harley, who would bark at every chick I managed to grab. Except this one. The one that was made for me and only me. Although I wouldn't know it at first, we were just really good friends.

I would fight fires at 2:30 in the morning and stay up well past 6 before I reached home. I would call my grandma once a week and tell her how well I was doing. Then of course I'd ring my old pop and make sure he was managing just fine with my little sis around.

But none of that went as planned. Instead, I took the opening for Manager at _The Warehouse_ down the street Monday through Friday's. Carter was the one that told me to go for it. With her talking up rainbows and butterflies about my killer grilled cheese, it wasn't long before they offered me the job. Although, I'm pretty sure they just enjoyed the company Carter provided during their slow hours. Occasionally I would come in on the weekends to see how things were holding up without me there, but I try to spend that time with my girl.

 _The Warehouse_ is a barbecue joint that gets surprisingly great business for being new and out of the blue. I would say the success was the man on grill, but I don't want to take the credit for something I barely attempted.

"Chandler." I hear my door crack open and a teenage girl walk through "Chandler, I missed the bus." I shouldn't say teenager, she's hardly 12, but has the knowledge of a 16 year old. She's smart for her age. We both grew up before we were ready and I can slowly start seeing myself in her eyes. I guess that's part of the responsibility when losing any relatives keeping the family history alive.

It's just us now, we have no one else.

"Carter, you miss the bus every Monday." I mumble, trying to rewind back to last night.

"Chandler..." She whines, extending the 'r' until it reaches annoying.

Pulling the blankets back from my body, I swing my legs over the side as I finally reach to turn off my alarm. "What's your excuse this time?"

"It's my alarm. The batteries are going dead." She defends

It's weird...I didn't think her alarm had batteries.

I look up from sitting on the side of my mattress to find my little sister standing there wearing her uniform. Her shirt is not tucked in and her ankle socks are barely showing (she got in trouble last time she wore those socks). Her long brunette hair is pulled back into a loose ponytail as her hazel eyes hide behind a pair of black eyeglasses.

I try to stifle my yawn as I tell her to tuck in her shirt.

Rubbing the sleep out of my eyes I stand up to grab the black slacks off the chair beside my dresser. Glancing up I watch as Carter turns around and leaves the room; her hand is guided around her waist as she tucks in her white polo shirt.

Looking back at the clock by my bedside I realize there is no time for a quick breakfast. Quickly, I slip on my pinpoint-oxford-button-down shirt that still has my name pinned to it before walking out just in time to see my sister hop up on the counter.

"I need 5 dollars for lunch." Carter tells me as she pours the warm coffee into a mug.

I grab my burnt-orange tie from the back of the couch and let it hang loose around my neck. "I gave you 5 dollars Friday."

She rolls her eyes and grabs her bag "Never mind, I'll just starve like Thursday." She says dramatically, jumping down and planting her feet safely on the ground. "Then they will see that you don't feed me and then I will be taken away where you can't lay a single finger-"

"Okay." I chuckle and grab the firm bill out of my wallet. "Don't spend it on junk food. And I want a receipt." I add as a side note "Did you take your medicine?"

She nods "Can't get a receipt from a vending machine."

"Hahaha..." I laugh obnoxiously as I open the door. "I hope you ate breakfast." Hearing the heavy door close behind me I lock the bolt.

"We didn't have milk." She tells me

"I just went to the store last week, Carter, how much do you drink."

She shrugs and we make our way downstairs to the small coffee shop to pick up a couple of muffins.

This seems to be the regular Monday morning routine.

Walking through the wooden-glass doors our eyes go straight to the menu. The same menu as the day before, which most likely is the same menu as 4 years ago. It hasn't changed. Yet, we still spend about 5 minutes staring at it before deciding on the same order as every week. "Two Banana Nut Muffins and an Orange Juice, please." I decide to stick with my slightly warm coffee.

If someone saw Carter and I as a father-daughter figure, there is no doubt they would see me as an irresponsible adult. I run late almost every morning when dropping her off at school, her lunch is hardly ever made, and when it is, it isn't right. Her sandwich is squished and the crust is still lining the bread, half the time I forget the spoon to her yogurt and her bag of chips are shoved in her lunch box; causing them to pop before she even opens them. I mean, come on, I can't even remember to buy batteries for her alarm clock.

We may not get things right, but she's all I have and if it takes the rest of my life to get that _father figure_ down, then I'm willing to spend that time understanding what it means to be a good dad.

Waiting for your food is harder when you're running absolutely late. But with a few customers before us and a muffled worker behind the counter, I waited the 10 minutes it took to get our couple muffins and a drink because I knew how frustrating it can get to be that person serving.

Rushing back to the car, Carter was barely buckled up when I put my foot on the gas.

"Red one." I hear her call out

I turn and watch the small red car drive past. Quickly, I look ahead to find a blue Ford Focus coming our way. "Blue one." I call out in order for this small game to be tied.

It may be a stupid pointless game, but it's _our_ stupid pointless game. I still remember the day when Carter was crying in her car seat as my grandmother drove home from the grocery store. I tried everything to calm her down but nothing seemed to work. Just as we were about to deal with a tantrum a red car zoomed by my window with a blue one not far behind. I knew Carter was just starting to learn her colors and I hoped a little game would help. It was something that got our minds off everything around us and focused on each other. So I called out _"Blue one!"_ and soon our little game turned into a never ending war.

"Can I just skip today and come to the restaurant with you?" She asks as her head rest back against the leather seats of my silver Honda Civic.

"Sorry kiddo, your education is the key to my happiness-"

It's almost like I can hear her eyes rolling at me right now as she finishes the infamous line "Without it we'd be lost." She hates the saying our grandma always repeated to us when we didn't want to do something. "Yeah-yeah-yeah." Carter glances out the side window "I miss grandma."

"Me too Kiddo, me too." I pat her leg with my free hand as we both fall silent when we pass the little runway the light aircraft was suppose to land on 10 years ago. Carter doesn't remember much, but she knows the story like the back of her hand. We both do. Driving by everyday on my way to work I can still remember that cold night I stood outside for hours with my grandmother waiting for the plane to come in.

But it never did.

I clear my throat before speaking to make sure I'm not choked up. "Come by after school, I promise we won't stay as long as we did last week, but make sure you don't distract anyone. Walk straight to the back office and work on your homework." I pull up to her grade school and unlock the car doors.

"I don't mind staying all night like Friday, it's just, I can't make small talk with George." She admits as she grabs her bag and swings it over her shoulder before climbing out.

"No one can." I mutter which makes her giggle "Have fun."

"It's school, we aren't allowed to have fun." She jokes and walks off "I love you."

"Love ya, too." I call after her.

Sitting there I wait for a minute just venturing off as I lose sight of her through the double doors.

None of this is easy. It never has been and most likely never will be. _Life_ is something they need to teach you in school. _Responsibility_ is something you need to know to make a career for yourself. Statistics, Atomic Bombs, Diversity, none of that is relevant to what I deal with daily. _Family_ needs to be a subject I want my little sister to learn about. At the end of the day family is what you go home to. Family is what you keep close to your heart. History repeats itself, but family will last forever.

By impulse, my wrist comes into my line of sight.

"I'm late!"

Quickly, I look over my shoulder for any traffic before grabbing my cell from my pocket to call in and tell them _I'm on my way, I'll be there in a few minutes._

Veering away from the curb with one hand on the wheel I don't see the small car in my blind spot.

Before I can react I hear both our cars make contact.

"Damn!" I growl as I rapidly hang up the phone and unbuckle. Climbing out of the car I hear the person that I hit sigh as she seems equally as frustrated getting out of her car to join me in the road "Don't you look where you're going? You just drove right into me." My hands find my hips as I pace back and forth. This can't be happening.

"I hit you? You pulled out without even looking." She argues

"I did not. All I did was-was..."

"Talk on your cellphone." She finishes for me just making me even more pissed.

"Oh, like you've never talked on your cellphone while driving."

"Is that a sexist remark?"

"No-no, that was an..." Finally I glance away from the damage to meet her eyes and my heart stops. I can't find the words to speak or the strength to move. It can't be her: she moved to LA, got a job, found a man...but it is her. I know those dimples anywhere. "Monica?"

She pauses for a minute before raising the sunglasses that sit in the crook of her nose. I watch carefully as she places them on top of her head and stares deep into my eyes.

I swallow heavily, this can't be true, the feeling is unreal. I haven't felt the flutter in the pit of my stomach since...I can't remember.

No one spoke for what seemed like eternity. It's been too long, when...how? I can't remember the last time I laid eyes on her but I could never forget that smile, those eyes...that form.

She shakes her head equally shocked. I don't know how long we've been standing here staring at each other but it's gotta be long enough for someone to hunk at us.

The only time we break eye contact is when Monica turns around to move out of the way of a passing car.

Finally, she sighs and looks around us "Well you know what, there is nothing like meeting a true gentleman." She says sarcastically

"Or one might say running into one." I backfire calmly as I run my hand through my hair and motion to the cars.

She shakes her head once again as she brings her glasses back down to cover her eyes before turning to her vehicle.

"Mon, wait." I step forward in attempt to stop her.

"What do you wanna say, Chandler?" She turns to look at me once again, her anger showing across her face.

This is my chance to speak up, to let her know I've thought about our last night together for years with regret. I want her to know I want a second chance, a moment to show her things have changed. But nothing comes out and I look like an even bigger fool.

As she waits for an explanation her eyes glance over the two cars.

I think this is the first time she actually looks down to see the little dent created. "Perfect...just lovely." Her hand runs across the hood of her car and I suddenly feel bad. I'm not sure what I can do at this point that will make this better. But thank God I don't have to come up with an excuse as she speaks before me. "You know what, let's just forget this ever happened." She backs away about to get in her vehicle when I speak again.

"Wait, wait, wait." I stop her "So-so you are leaving the scene of an accident."

"Chandler, there is no damage to your car." She points out "Quit while you're ahead." She leaves to get back in her car as I'm left alone trying to decipher what just happened.

I wait until she gets situated and leaves before muttering a final "Damn it." Looking back at the small scratch one last time I throw up my hands "What else in my life can go wrong today?"


	3. Carter's Medicine

There are many hidden secrets behind every kitchen door. Unless you've worked in a kitchen, it's hard to understand the chaotic dance of a dinner rush. Coded language, constant personality clashes, and thick-as-blood camaraderie are side dishes to every entree you've ever ordered.

That's not to mention the pain of standing for 10 hours without any breaks while you continue dead-lifting a 50 lb. box of frozen chicken while stooped over in the freezer as your "non-slips" are freezing to the ground. That's just the morning of the day. Now, down a guy after he took two fingers off in the Robot Coupe and your busboy having to walk out with him to a hospital because he doesn't speak English and may be in the country illegally, there is very little service leaving the kitchen. All-the-while causing the head chef to serve up his famous meal that will serve everyone before the grill closes.

I've had a long hard day.

Staring back at my reflection in the mirror, I make sure my tie is straight. Checking the long fabric that hangs off my neck to my belt I think of the words Carter mumbles to me after every shift _"Your thingy is crooked."_

Untying my tie I grab both sides, making sure the wide end is twice as long as the other before knotting it like before.

"You look fine, just don't get all blushy when a pretty girl walks through the door."

I glance behind me just as Carter flings her bag onto the sofa in my office, penetrating my wondering mind.

"You know I can't resist your beautiful grace." I tease, disregarding my burnt orange dress tie before checking my appearance one last time and making my way towards Carter. "The minute you stepped into the building my cheeks got this rosy red tint to them..." Reaching up to touch my cheek I can tell she is trying to hide her smile "Your charm just blew me away as I saw that..." I look to see that her neatly brushed hair from this morning is now all in knots. "...fur ball on top your head."

She pushes me away as we both laugh "I meant with the interviews." She smiles "I saw some nice looking girls out there. So...don't get...nervous." She starts tugging at her tangled ponytail with scrunched eyes and gritted teeth.

"Here..." I reach up, taking it from her grip as I try to softly loosen the knots. "What did you do, play kill or die at recess?"

"No-Ow!" As an instinct, her hand reaches up to the chunk of hair I almost pulled out.

"What happened to coloring at the round table during playtime?"

I don't need to see her face to know she is rolling her eyes at me right now. "I'm nearly 13, Chandler."

"You just turned 12, Car."

"9 months ago!" She reminds me just like she has been reminding me the past 4 months while dropping small hints about her birthday party. I pull out the rubber band from her brunette hair just before she spins around to face me. "Which brings me to my present..."

"Whoa." I stop her "You know the rules, no mentioning birthday gifts when George could be in earshot."

We both look towards the door to make sure he isn't standing there. "Sorry, I didn't think it was that bad-" She mumbles

"You didn't have to clean it up."

I remember my 13th birthday pretty well. My mom just received the news that she was pregnant with Carter and my dad recently got laid off from his job. It was the birthday I knew things were going to be a little different. And not in a bad way. It was small but it was special. There was a traditional cake and a few party hats. My grandma brought balloons and my grandpa made sure to bring the noisemakers I loved so much. I couldn't have asked for a better birthday.

Running my fingers through her hair, I try to make it look presentable. "How are you feeling?"

"Fine." She answers simple

"Are you sure? You took your-"

"Yes, Chandler." I know she hates it when I ask but I just want to be sure. The thought of her skipping a medication frightens me "You've already asked me today. Don't be so worried."

I nod with a sigh "It's okay to be worried, you know."

"Are you telling me that or you?" Her hands come up to straighten my tie. At the moment I'm not sure who I'm trying to convince. "Don't worry about me. I'm fine." She gives me a reassuring smile and I suddenly feel much better.

"Mr. Bing, are you ready?" I hear someone call behind me

Taking a deep breath, I nod "I'll be right out."

Interviews were never really my strong suit. When taking the job as manager not once did it cross my mind that I'll be the one to fire employees, make rash decisions and turn down someone not capable of the job.

"Chandler, remember what we talked about." Carter grabs my shirt before I can get out the door. "If they can make a Grilled Cheese Sandwich, they get the job."

Smiling, I kiss the side of her head before straightening my tie for the final time.

Going through interview after interview, question after question, no one seems exceptional enough that I _need_ them in my restaurant. I want someone to stick out and be original with me. I don't want the same waiter that Chucky Cheese has across the street. I'm looking for stability, security and reliability. Someone that can fulfill the job as well as I can, if not, better.

"Give me an example of a seasonal menu. And describe a late summer menu." I have been asking him the same general questions I've been asking for the past 2 hours. However, his answers turned out a little more...different, than others.

His resume sits in front of me as I look across the table.

"Well, a seasonal menu only comes around during the seasons..." He looks confident in his answer that I almost can't take him seriously. "What was the other question?"

Turning over the paper in front of me I scan through it before capping my pen. "Have you ever considered a position as one of my bussers?" Folding my hands I lean my elbows on the table in front of me.

He looks more confused than I looked when he answered what a seasonal menu is all about.

"Someone who goes around the tables when the guest have left and makes it presentable again." I tell him "Then you take the dirty dishes back to the kitchen where the Dishwasher will resume the job."

He nods "Can I eat the food that is left on their plates."

Laughing, I can't decide if this guy is serious or pulling my leg. "If you are sure they are done then yeah, I wouldn't mind if you finish off the access food left on their plates." Honestly, I think the Dishwasher would appreciate that.

"Great! I'll take it."

I think I'm going to regret this later.

Standing up, I shake his hand "Alright, then I'll see you Monday morning at 7, Mr. Tribbiani."

"Thank you Mr. Bing, you won't be disappointed."

As he walks off I take a deep breath. "Did he just ask me if he can eat off of someone else's plate?" I turn to no one in particular. "Wow..." Before I sit I wave over a waiter to get me a bottled water.

When I said I wanted someone original I didn't mean _that_ original.

I hear the sound of heels walking up and turn in time to find a strangely familiar face appear just as she slows her pace.

What are the odds.

"Ms. Geller." I stand in order to extend my hand "Chandler Bing."

I watch as her shoulders drop and she steps forward "Yeah, well this is embarrassing." Her hand reaches out to shake mine.

"You've a-you've calmed down right?" I drop her hand "Because this will be a pretty rough interview if not." I joke trying to ease the tension from before.

"Yeah," she tucks a strand of hair behind her ear "I apologize for that. I let my emotions get in the way and it brought back so many memories." She looks down at the table where I'll soon be interviewing her "Maybe this isn't such a great idea...I should go." She turns again and it's like I can't ever get her to stay and talk for two minutes.

"Please." I say softly "Let's just forget about the past." Her back still faces me "I want to interview you. I know your skills, Monica."

She sighs only to turn back around and give me a short smile. "Please." I repeat

I don't remember this morning and why my day has been one hell of a nightmare as I carry on with the interview.

"What do you do to stay on top of the new cooking trends?"

The process of this interview goes through the same as the others. Questions followed by answers, smiles followed by anxious laughter. But her nervousness didn't show, her answers seemed more confident and her experience was like no others. I knew she was good, but damn, she's smoother than I remember.

"Honestly, I watch food network." She pauses as a smile forms on her lips. "I get home just in time to heat up dinner and switch it on."

Nodding, I respond "Carter is the same way." I tell her "After work we'd drive home and the first thing she does is request a grilled cheese for dinner as she grabs the remote; already searching for the station. Which of course is-"

"23." She finishes for me

Hearing her chuckle makes me smile. Why can't everything in my life be this breezy.

Then I remember, it once was.

"Maybe she should be the one out here interviewing you." I comment

She shakes her head "I don't think we'd get anything done."

"You might be right about that." Writing a few things down on her application I continue with another question "Besides upcoming trends, what made you decide to enter the culinary world and become a chef?" I most likely already know the answer, but it's protocol.

"My mom." Her eyes sparkle as she answers. "I think it's because I had so much fun with my mom."

I wait for her to continue but she never does. "Are you and your mom still close?"

"Not so much anymore, not like when I was a little girl." I watch as she crosses one leg over the other "I remember we would wake up early on Saturday mornings to watch Betty Crocker. We would set out all the ingredients and make it step by step with her. Saturday mornings were our mornings together as my father went to work."

"It sounds like you enjoyed your childhood."

"It was memorable." Her eyes slowly fade away from mine.

"I know a lot Monica, but I just need to know one thing." She nods, her professional state still in focus "What is your favorite thing to cook?"

"Oh no," She shakes her head with a smile still fixed."It's gotta be grilled peanut butter and jelly." She says it like if I argue there are going to be some serious consequences.

I'm taken aback by her answer. "That is the most bizarre thing I've ever heard."

Her laugh is breathtaking as she leans more forward. "You've never had grilled pb&j before, have you?"

Without giving much of a chance to answer she informs me of a dozen ways to prepare a peanut butter and jelly sandwich including her infamous "grilling" it. She even said, and I quote, _"Whatever you do, go big, or go home. This great sandwich deserves at least that."_ I'm a chef, I've heard of numerous different foods that not many hear throughout the year. But grilled peanut butter and jelly was not on my list. I try to get Carter to eat something different each week; but I don't know how she would feel if I switch her grilled cheese with a sandwich that make kids hands sticky.

I feel something different during this interview. I feel like I can connect with her all over again, like we have the same thoughts and ideas running through our heads like before. "Explain, in detail, the perfect New England clam chowder." If she can answer that then I know I need her on my staff. The past is the past. Things have changed. A New England clam chowder is probably the most difficult dish to make right down to it's texture and if she can preform that then I've heard all I need to know.

"When done right," She begins "clam chowder should be rich and filling, but _not_ sludgy or stew-like." Her face scrunches up with emotion as she talks me through. "Its texture should be creamy without feeling leaden, like you're sipping on gravy. Tender chunks of potato should barely hold their shape, dissolving on your tongue, their soft texture contrasting with tender bites of salty pork and briny clam; god help the clam shack that dare serves rubbery clams in their chowder!"

I laugh out loud that I have to break eye contact to gain my composure.

She smiles and continues "The flavor of a clam chowder should be delicate and mild, the sweetness of the pork complementing the faint bitterness of the clams, accented by bits of celery and onion that have all but dissolved into the broth, fading completely into the background. A good grind of black pepper and a bay leaf or two are the only other seasonings you need, unless of course you count the requisite oyster crackers as seasoning." She pauses before adding "New England clam chowder I've actually made a few times watching Betty."

I'm speechless. "I think I love you." Her smile fades and I realize what I just said "Oh, God. I'm sorry." My face begins to heat up "I'm sorry. I've just never known someone to describe a New England clam chowder soup the way you just did."

"If it was that easy to get someone to fall in love with me, I would have made calm chowder more often." She jokes which puts me at ease. I want to hire her right on the spot. She is focused, yet relaxed, she has experience, yet is yearning for more. She has both strengths and weaknesses. She is the one.

I close my folder and set down my pen.

Silence filters between us once more before I bring up our past "I didn't intentionally run out on what we had." I tell her softly "I wanted to tell you, but...I couldn't."

"You didn't even call," Her eyes are filled with sadness "You just disappeared."

"What was I suppose to say, Monica?"

Her eyes lose their glow for a moment as her mood shifts "I wanted you to tell me that you had feelings for me too. I wanted to hear you say that you loved me..."

I chuckle "In my defense, I just did." She glares at me with a frustrated sigh "Not ready for jokes, got it."

"Look, Chandler." She begins to gather her things "Maybe this was a bad idea." She stands and I immediately follow.

"Wait."

She shakes her head "I was done waiting 8 years ago." She doesn't bother putting on her jacket when she makes her way towards the door.

I look over to find half the staff staring back at me, a few of them nudging to go after her.

The bell rings and her hair blows in the wind as she starts down the street.

A lot of people left me in my lifetime and I may never fully recover from that. But there is one person that I left.

When Carter was growing up and I went off to college I had a friend. A friend that I hung out with on Saturday nights until about 3 in the morning. We'd laugh until we peed, we'd make special trips to Walmart and pick up ingredient to make strawberry-banana smoothies. We were each other's person when things got tough. But one day there was nothing she could do. Things were getting worse at home and eventually I dropped out of college. I didn't say goodbye, I packed up my things and left in a heart-beat.

I knew I loved her then but I also knew I couldn't tell her. I had other responsibilities to worry about. The time came when she graduated from college and moved across the country. Once her MySpace went private I had an aching feeling in the pit of my stomach that I'll never get to see her again. All those classes we skipped together just to go to the Central Park Zoo and the long nights we spent gabbling with Cheetos were never talked about again. She had her life to focus on and I had Carter to worry about.

I left once and that was a mistake. I don't want to let her out of my life again.

I find my feet as I hurry out the door and jog down the street to where she is about to cross. "Don't go." I say softly "I need you." Taking a step forward I feel my knees shake "I need you as my sue-chef..." I pause "I need you as my second hand, I need you as my date tomorrow evening and I need you in my arms again. You are my person Monica, and I need you right now."

She turns halfway around, tears are springing in her eyes "What did you just say?"

"You are my person." I repeat. The night air is chilly on my bare arms, my sleeves are rolled up to my elbows from early in the day and right now I'm regretting it.

The street light casts a shadow across her face and I take another step forward.

"I walked out once, I don't want to make that mistake again."

Her head shakes and she breaks eye contact "I spilled my feelings to you and you broke my heart when you left." My heart literally feels like it is being ripped out of my chest "I wanted you then." She tells me "I don't want to fall for you all over again only to be alone the next day."

I shake my head "That's not going to happen." I move forward, wanting to be closer to her

"How am I suppose to believe anything you say right now?"

"Do you trust me?"

She nods "I use to." She answers softly

"Monica, when I saw you standing in the middle of the street this morning I felt it all over again."

She looks exasperated as her arms are thrown up and she sighs, deeply frustrated "Felt what-"

I crash my lips with hers, my hands finding her neck as I kiss her tenderly. I can feel her body respond to mine as she pushes herself closer to me. Her hands find my shirt and she bunches up the fabric in her fists. My lips widen against hers as I breath quickly and cover her mouth once again.

"Did you hire her? Please tell me you hired her. She's perfect."

It's just after 8 and we're driving home from the restaurant. We got about 2 minutes into the drive and all Carter could talk about was how the last interviewee was amazing.

"How would you know how perfect she was, you were suppose to be doing your homework in the other room."

"I didn't have to be in the other room to know that handshake lingered too long." She teases

Reaching over I start to tickle any spot I can touch. Carter is very ticklish that just the thought of me tickling her will send her into fits of giggles. She starts to kick and squirm; trying to free herself from my hand that is now under her arm.

"Chan-" She can't finish her word because she is laughing so hard.

As a red light nears, I free my hand from Carter and give her some relief to catch her breath.

It's silent, nothing sounding besides the soft music in the background and the motor of the jeep next to us.

As I turn the corner and park the car in the parking garage on Morton St. Carter asks the question I've been waiting for "What's for dinner?"

"Well, bud, I think something different is in order for tonight." I tell her as we climb out.

"Oh! Can we have a grilled cheese club?" She spins around to face me.

"You are going to turn into a grilled cheese, you know that." Chuckling, I grab her hand as we begin walking across the street towards our apartment building. "As much as adding an extra layer to your grilled cheese sounds tempting, I was thinking more like a grilled peanut butter and jelly sandwich." I hand her the keys to get the mail out of our mailbox when we near the door.

Her face is priceless that I just have to laugh.

"That sounds gross."

I open the heavy glass door and usher her inside where she goes straight to the mailbox; numbered 19B.

I'm with her on this one. My first reaction was the exact same until Monica explained it to me.

Walking up to our floor Carter opens the door "Have you tried it before?" I ask, going straight to the fridge and cupboards, making sure we have all the main ingredients.

She shakes her head "I've seen pictures." She tells me while keeping the best straight face I've seen "It doesn't photograph well."

I can't help the grin that comes as I grab the bread, pan and pb&j. "Remember when you first heard of oreos dipped in peanut butter? You thought that was gross." I remind her.

She sighs "Fine. I'll try it. But I won't like it." She quickly adds

Rolling my eyes I tell her to look up the directions for me.

Without a beat, Carter hurries to her room where she left my laptop after playing on it all night. Coming back into the kitchen she googles the directions and reads them out loud to me.

"It says to place the bread slices on a work surface and spread the peanut butter on 1 slice of bread and the jam on the other. Then, set aside."

"I think I could have figured that first step out on my own, but okay." I mutter and do as Carter says before she reads on.

"Melt the butter in a large frying pan over medium heat until foaming." Carter makes a face and looks up at me "Foaming?" She questions

I grab the butter and peal in 1/4 of my stick. "Letting the butter foam before adding ingredients ensures a hot cooking environment and adds a rich flavor to the dish."

She nods before continuing "Then add the 2 slices of bread..." She pauses like she is reading the next part in parenthesis "...filling-side up," She informs me like if I did it another way it would be one hell of a disaster. "-and cook until the bottoms are golden brown and the filling is warmed through. Cook for about 6 minutes." Her face is inches from the computer screen and I realize that she isn't wearing her glasses "Lastly, using a flat spatula, flip 1 slice of bread onto the other to close the sandwich. Transfer to a plate and serve _immediately."_ I swear these guys write the ingredients for a child to understand.

Following the instructions, I serve Carter's sandwich immediately. Making the sandwich was easier than I thought; cleaning it up, now that's another story. Peanut butter everywhere.

Watching Carter eat her sandwich while watching someone else cook a gourmet meal is unsettling. I'm the worst big brother on the planet.

"Hey, Kiddo, you've got about 5 minutes." She gives me a thumbs up before taking another bite causing half of the insides to gush out onto her plate. Any other parent might panic right about now, but I'm not any other parent.

After washing down the counter top I grab Carter's backpack and unzip the front where I find her glasses case and a small note.

 _Mr. Bing,_

 _Carter's medicine needs a refill. Please send her with the tube for Monday._

 _Thank you,_

 _Nurse Bailey._

I sigh and clip the note to the fridge as a reminder. I usually send a bottle to the nurse at her school in case we do end up running late and Carter forgets to take the drug. It's pretty upsetting that she forgets so often that they need a refill.

Carter knows how to inject herself. It's something she was taught by the doctor for any reason that I was in a situation where I wasn't able to aid her myself. However, I don't feel very comfortable with the idea, but there are times where I'm unable to do it.

I reach up in the cupboard and pull out a small black case. Unzipping it I find a few needles and a small tube full of asparaginase. Sticking the needle into the tiny hole at the top of the tube I slowly fill the needle with liquid. I tap it a few times before carefully settling it down to grab a bottle of water out of the fridge.

* * *

 _This whole chapter is a jumbled mess! I cut and pasted a lot of things..._

 _So I'm currently on chapter 6 but a lot of people don't seem that interested so I think I'll stop there and maybe do something else. I'll finish posting the chapters I have written but there is a good chance I'll quit soon. Reviews will be appreciated and I'll post the next chapters soon_

 _Guys, I only jumped about 5 times in Mockingjay Part 2...FYI everyone saw it coming and the whole theater still managed to scream._

 _P.S. these chapter titles I'm coming up with are really bad! Haha, oh well_


	4. Carter's Bedtime Story

It was a late October night in the Bing household. The lights were out in every room except one as the sun began to fade into the distance on the other side of the wire glass window. As the owls cooed and the crickets chirped, the night was quieting down. However it appeared as if apartment 19 was doing anything but.

The living-room was faced with destruction as I wrapped myself in blankets; moving from on top of the coffee table to standing on the cushioned couch.

"She was a bride at only seventeen and was related to the royal house..." The accent I tried to speak with was deep and like the ancient Romans as if we were in a period of enlightenment. "...yet, as his Catholic biographer put it, by sorcery and witchcraft he did so allure that poor gentlewoman that she could not live without him." My voice changed to a dark and mysterious tone as I switched characters. "The bread man, the fair lady was really in love with, captured her eye across the foyer." I caught eyes with Carter across the room in the rocking chair as she wrapped herself tight in her blanket. "But not like any other fair day, he was dressed more sophisticated and powered so Prince Gilbert wouldn't recognize him."

I watch as Carters eyes drift closed before they shot open; fighting the exhaustion the day brought her. I remember her saying long ago how my bedtime stories were one of a kind and she never wanted them to end. I find myself smiling as I continue the story.

"Grabbing his glass of champagne, he raised his tumbler to the couple." I grabbed the half empty bottle of YooHoo and raised it to the ceiling "If Madam Bing is cherry, then I must be blithe and show my regards to this impending marriage." I then stepped down from the couch and grabbed the pillow off the floor "Something about this maidens character had Sir Chandler perturbed."

Carter smiled as I put the pillow around my arm, struggling as I managed to tie it with another blanket. Forming a shield I moved on "Sir Chandler then downed his drink and walked across the room until he was person to person with Prince Gilbert." Stopping in front of the bar stool that belonged in the kitchen, I continued "He couldn't bare the thought of someone else taking his women. So, without much of a notion he challenged thereby Prince to a duel for the gentlewomen's love."

Reaching down I quickly grabbed the lamp that sat on the side table; writing it into my bedtime story. "The prince grabbed the torch that sat in its sconce. I hereby proclaim a duel with this here duke," I motioned to the kitchen chair beside me "...for this fine ladies hand." Setting the lamp down on the table I moved on "Although, Prince Gilbert didn't know how powerful the duke really was, he may have just lost his lady to a man who serves bread for a living." Watching as Carter's eyes started to drift shut I took off the blanket that wrapped around my shoulders like a sash, before quietly walking over to Carter "The first match was a tie," I crossed the room and threw all the blankets and pillows that were on the floor back onto the couch "...the second was a close call," I bent down in front of Carter "...but the third one..." Scooping my baby sister in my arms I carried her to the other room. "...Sir Chandler won by a long shot."

With one hand I pull back the covers to her bedspread before gently lying her down. Kissing her forehead I whisper a quiet 'I love you' before leaving the door cracked on my way out.

Nights like these make it easy. Nights like last remind me why I took custody of Carter in the first place.

Cleaning up the living-room I saw the first flash of lightning shine through the window. There has been storm after storm blowing through New York for the past week and all I could do was try to keep Carter calm. It was highly unlikely for a tornado to touch down in the middle of the city, but not impossible. The weather that has been passing through here has acted server enough for a twister to appear out of the sky.

With another clash of lightning came a _BOOM_ , just before the rain started to pour.

It wasn't easy providing a safe environment for my baby sister to grow up in. There are defiantly hard things to being the big brother that she looks up to. By far the hardest part is letting go. With every day that passes I'm realizing even more that she needs to make her own decisions and mistakes, and in order for that to happen, I actually need to take a step back and let her do it. Of course, I am always here to help steer her. Just knowing when to let go and give the freedom she needs to do those things makes it all tough.

"Chandler?"

Taking my attention off cleaning the living room I find Carter clenching her blanket in the doorway.

Smiling softly I point to my room. "Go. I'll be there in a minute." And just like that she's gone.

Many people have fears, some even over come them. Cold sweats, panting, quickened breath; it all heightens around fear. When a young one has a nightmare they usually call for their Mom or Dad. But what Carter did last night surprised me. She actually called for her Dad. I know I'm not him, but a part of me wondered if she meant me.

Putting the last few cups in the sink I turn off the lights and make my way to my bedroom.

Finding Carter curled up in the middle of my bed makes me smile. She seems so delicate right there that I don't want to move her. Her head is halfway under her blanket and her eyes are shut as she breaths evenly; it's then, that I know, she is fast asleep.

Pulling off my shirt and slipping out of my pants, I grab my Canon off my dresser. Very quietly, just as the lightening strikes, it lights up her face and my camera clicks.

That's a keeper.

Many children lose a parent as a child. Some to drugs, some by accident, and some from illness.

We lost our parents in a plane crash when Carter was just a year old. On their 20th anniversary they took a spontaneous trip to Mexico. To get away from work problems and financial stability, they left after planning it for two days. With that minor issue they were ticketed to a small aircraft just outside the city.

As for Carter and I, we stayed behind in our grandmothers care. Being only 72 she was able to look after a growing 1 year old. With my help of course.

My parents were scheduled to be gone for a four day trip and arrive back home on Sunday evening. They called us to check in right before they boarded the plane, then again when they arrived, twice on Friday, then again minutes before they took off. We assured them all was good at grandmas house.

Then, just an hour before their plane was scheduled to arrive we received a phone call.

Carter was in bed and I was lying on the couch watching cartoons as my grandma answered the phone.

I remember hearing her faint cries in the kitchen as she kept repeating if they were sure. Then I did something I regretted.

Flipping through the channels I searched for something to distract me. Stopping on the weather was a breaking news report issued not that long ago.

Across the bottom read _**Aircraft 772 Engine Blown**_. As the flames rose two photos appeared on the screen.

Charles and Nora Bing

I was sure they were mistaken. They were coming home tonight, they will be walking through the door any minute.

My grandmother came in the room, her eyes red and puffy. Sitting down right next to me she gathered me in her arms and I moved to hold her hand.

I find myself gripping my grandmothers hand tightly before her eyes come down to find mine. But there is no expression. It's like the world stopped. My mom and dad were gone; her daughter and son-in-law. I'm only 15, a boy going through high school. This shouldn't be happening to someone my age. My dad is suppose to teach me how to drive next weekend before I get my drivers licenses. He was going to be my baseball coach. I still have to attend prom with my mom driving me nuts as she takes too many pictures. Now, it's like all my dreams are falling through the cracks. I still have so much to look forward to and yet, as the seconds pass by, it seemed those dreams are fading further and further away.

I felt warm, salty tears sliding down my cheeks before wiping them away with the back of my hand. I want to scream, but I can't find my voice. I want to punch something, but I can't find the strength to move. So I just sit there holding onto my grandmothers hand beside me.

I knew then that I was a boy who needed to become a man.

* * *

 _Next post will be Thanksgiving or Black Friday. I hope you all have a great holiday!_


	5. Carter's Secret

I woke up alone the next morning, Carter nowhere to be seen as I check my watch. It is 9:30 in the morning and I am dead late for work. Groaning, I rub my hands across my face as I roll over onto my back.

"AHHH!"

Yanking the sheets off my body I sprint out of bed to the living room where I find Carter standing on top of the table. "What, what is it?" I ask panicked as my heart continues to race. The fact that she is not dressed and at school right now is far from my worries.

She points behind me and I find a small spider crawling up the wall. I release the breath I was holding as I grab a paper towel from the roll attached to the wall.  
"It's innocent, Car." I tell her as I go back over to the wall and smooch it between my fingers.

"Yeah, but if there is one there is bound to be a web and where there is a web there is a nest and inside that nest there are hundreds."

Rolling my eyes I look back at the dead insect inside the paper towel. "Got 'em." Reaching out I hook my free arm around Carter's thighs to get her down. "It's nice to see footprints all over the coffee table." I comment.

"Sorry." She mutters as her feet are back on the ground. "But I had my reasons."

Throwing the paper towel away I realize I missed my morning jog. The perfect opportunity to get Carter to come with me now. "So bud, I was thinking..." I grab the orange juice out of the fridge and reach up in the cabinet for a couple glasses. "How about you and I skip today and have a little fun?"

Her eyes light up as I pour the liquid into a cup before handing it over.

"Seriously?"

"On one condition." I stop her before she gets too enthusiastic.

"I knew it was too good to be true..." She sighs "What's the torture I'm going through?"

Chuckling, I take a sip of my juice before setting the cup on the counter "You join me during my run this morning." I smile "We'll go slow, get some fresh air, enjoy nature..." I suggest

I watch as her body just sinks to the floor. "I cant..." She mutters "I broke my legs."

The leaves are just as beautiful as the day before. It's a little later in the day and more people are out at the park, giving me company as I look over the lake. A few small boats are out on the water; fishing for something I'm sure.

Glancing down at my watch I see the time I've been outside as I round the tree.

Maybe this wasn't such a good idea. I've doubled my time waiting on Carter to catch up. She heaves for air as she cuts the corner and her limbs do this floppy thing.

Jogging in place I finally halt my feet just as her hands find her knees. "How much longer?" She manages to breath out and I grab her inhaler from my shorts.

She takes a few pumps of oxygen before handing it back to me "Not far, we're about halfway home-"

"Halfway home!" She yells before clenching her aching chest. Her chest heaves and I finally give in and sit down on the lawn.

My forearms find my bent knees as my eyes squint up at her "Care to join me?"

She looks unsure the moment she sits down. "I don't think I'll be able to get up." She comments just as her body lies back.

These are the moments I love. The times I can call in sick to work and explain that I'm spending the day with my sister. Hearing the birds chirping and watching the squirrels chase one another is something I have found relaxing since I was a kid.

I can't think of a better morning to spend with Carter.

Watching as an old couple walks their dog towards us I nudge her next to me "What about that one?"

She sits up straight and I smile at the couple walking this way.

"Yes!"

Her grin is contagious that I can't help the smile that spreads from ear to ear. Carters hands immediately reach out to pet the pup that wags his tail in front of us. "Chandler, we need to get a dog now." She informs me "Look, it loves me."

I shake my head before this gets out of hand "No, we can't get a dog."

"Why not?" She whines

"Because Car, you can't even get up on time to catch the bus, you think you'll remember to walk the dog."

"Come on, it'll be fun. I'll take care of him, I promise." She starts to whine as she begins scratching behind his ears.

The dogs eyes find mine and I have to revert back to the view before I find myself talking _baby_ to it.

This was a bad idea, I never should have brought up the dog. I knew Carter has a thing for puppies and has been trying to describe her future dog to me. However, I don't know much about the different dog breeds, therefore I don't know what dog she has in mind. Cue the moment I started pointing out all the different dogs I see so I have an idea of what kind of pup she likes. All I know is that she doesn't want a huge dog.

"Yeah, come on, dad. Let her get a puppy." My eyes dart up to the couple "I heard it can be very therapeutic for those who are over stressed."

Carter begins to laugh "He's not my dad, he's my big brother." She tells them "Our parents died in a plane crash when I was little."

Great, why don't you just tell them our whole life story. Here comes the pity look and the _"I'm so sorry"_ speech. Their eyes glazed like they are about to cry.

"I'm so sorry." I watch as she begins to tug on the leash. "I feel terrible, I'm sorry to jump to conclusions..."

"It's okay, really. You aren't the first." I try to laugh it off

She gives me a sad look and so does her husband "No one should have to go through something so traumatic." She looks generally upset about our story. "Tell me, how young were they?"

I shrug, I never really thought about it honestly. I knew they got married young; and about a year before I came into the picture. I was 13 when Carter was born. Married 14 years, they couldn't have been older than 40. "Thirty-six, thirty-seven." I tell them

She gasps and I pray she doesn't have a heart attack right here in front of us "That is tragic."

"Darling..." Her husband is looking at his watch and I give him a knowing smile.

"Oh, right." She nods "We must be going." She gives us a warming smile "I wish you both the best." She turns

Her husband is practically dragging her away "You two have a lovely day now." He tells me before they take off.

I sigh and look down at Carter.

"What?"

"What?...What?" I quickly move so that I can tackle her without her seeing it coming "Just tell them our whole situation."

She begins laughing uncontrollably as she squirms beneath me. I know when Carter gets tickled she laughs hysterically and always manages to find her way to the floor where she will then kick me. Being in the middle of the most annoyingly funny sensation where you fleetingly lose control over your body which instinctively wriggles and tries to slither out of the tickler's grasp is something everyone should experience. I can't imagine _not_ being ticklish, just the thought of it makes me laugh.

We start to receive stares and I have a feeling these people think I'm abusing my baby sister. Without another thought I stand up to give Carter her freedom back. "You're lucky we are in public, I was about to go uncle Ester on your ass."

She gasps "That's a dollar in the swear jar." She points at me as her feet find the pavement road. "Just keep cussing and I'll soon have enough to buy my own puppy."

"You know, maybe I should make a jar and title it _Carter Missed The Bus Again_."

She shrugs "You could make a lot of money off that..."

I chuckle and bend down to throw her over my shoulder "That wasn't a compliment."

Carter laughs and grabs a hold of my damp shirt "Put me down Shrek." She jokes as I begin walking back towards our apartment with her still over my shoulder. "You better not fart..."

"Me? Fart? Never. I feel offended that you would think such a thing."

It's only when she starts coughing that I let her back to her feet. Bending on one knee I grab her arms and look her straight in the eyes "You okay?" My hand reaches up to feel her forehead and it is just as I expected.

Her eyes are filled with regret and I know what she is waiting for "You forgot to take your meds, didn't you?"

She doesn't answer me, but she doesn't have to.

"You're lucky I've some in my office at the restaurant." I grab her hand and we walk the couple blocks it takes to get there.

"Chandler..."

"Not now, Carter." So many emotions are running through my body right now I can't even think straight. Okay, the run was probably not my best idea but we hardly went faster than I slight jog...

"I felt fine this morning-"

"That doesn't matter." I raise my voice "You need to take them every morning followed by every night until told otherwise. God damn it, Carter." I feel terrible the instant it leaves my mouth but I don't have time to stop and apologize.

We cross the street and I see the doors to The Warehouse open wide. I move Carter in front of me as she leads the way to the back. I welcome all employees to relax in my office which is why it doesn't surprise me to find it opened. "Why, Hello Mr. Bing." George greets me as we walk in. "I assumed we wouldn't be seeing you or Miss Carter today."

I stop near the door and allow Carter to grab the case out of the top drawer and a water from the mini fridge. My hand rest on my hips as I watch her carefully, her breathing has become shallow "Yeah, we just needed to make a quick pit stop."

George looks over at Carter as she places the needle through the top of the bottle "Uh-oh, looks like someone forgot."

Out of everyone in the restaurant only a select few know of mine and Carter's situation.

I move over to where she takes a seat in my chair and I bend down in front of her.

"I'll give you guys a few minutes."

When the door closes I speak "I'm sorry." I rub my hand through her tangled ponytail "I don't mean to yell, it's just sometimes..." I shake my head "I don't want to risk things."

She nods but remains silent.

"You know what this means, right?"

She nods again and bows her head before the tears fall.

"Come here.." I quickly gather her in my arms and lift her small form. I spin around so that I'm seated in the chair with her on my lap. "It'll just be a follow up, nothing terrible." Her head finds my chest and I try to change the subject "So, are you going to tell me what you want for your birthday or do I have to tickle it out of you?"

Her breath catches and she sniffles.

"Eww...is that snot on my shirt?"

I hear her laugh "You've gotta wash it anyway." She mumbles quietly as she is still trying to find her breath.

We sit there in silent until her breathing comes even and I look down to find her asleep in my arms.

It's been about a month since we found out. The signs weren't very hard to miss and the doctors were helpful with explaining in detail what we should expect throughout the next few months. Each day it gets more challenging but this last week we began to see the signs all over again. I've been making appointments and signing off on medication more often than I'd like. We aren't as far as chemo and I hope we don't see that for a while. I just know I can't lose her too.

There are a select few that know and we hope to keep it that way. Carter doesn't want to be treated any different than she is now and I respect that decision. In fact, I agree with her choice.

The door opens and our moment together ends as they immediately find themselves apologizing for interrupting.

"No worries." I assure her "We won't be here much longer."

Monica shuts the door quietly behind her as she makes her way over to the couch against the wall "It's pretty slow out there so I thought now's my chance to sit down before the dead end shift." She explains although I never asked for an explanation.

Silence draws over us and I find my eyes drifting over Carter's body curled against mine. Her arm is draped over my chest, her head on my shoulder. I can't think of a better place to be than right here. I don't want to forget this feeling, I don't want to lose this bond we have. I know one day it's going to be gone, but I pray every night that I get one more day with this feeling.

Her hands are folded together as they rest in her lap "Are we ever going to talk about that kiss or was it just to get me to stay?" She says, never looking up

"I know I want it to mean something, but what do you want?"

Her eyes leave the lent on the floor when she looks up "I don't want to get hurt."

Shaking my head I reply quietly "I won't hurt you." She breaks eye contact and I know she doesn't believe me "Carter is sick with acute lumphocytic leukemia." I say softly and that seems to draw her attention "Do you think I would tell someone that if I know I'm gonna leave them? No. Because I'm not gonna leave you Monica. I won't hurt you again."

There are probably hundreds of questions running through her head right now but I don't give her a chance to answer "I want to take you out. Just the two of us and we can catch up, what do you say?" I smile "Are you free tomorrow?"

I don't want to move fast but I think I ruined that with the kiss. Before 2 weeks ago I haven't seen Monica Geller in 8 years. And now, when things aren't so simple, she suddenly shows up in my life all over again and these feelings resurface. The feelings of desire and aspiration keep me from wanting to leave. Because of these feelings I went after her that night. Out of all the restaurants in town she chose mine; that's gotta be a sign.

One day, I know things are going to get bad and reality will set in. But through all that tension built up I won't leave because I know without Monica I won't have a reason to be on this Earth today. Carter is the only reason I'm here today, but I want more than one reason. I want someone to bring flowers to without an excuse and someone to gush about in the kitchen. Although now she'll be in the kitchen with me.

My eyes stay fixed on Monica as I think about these things. I don't normally see her burnt orange dress shirt that matches everyone elses from it being hidden behind a white apron that she wears in the kitchen. Although, that apron is now abandoned as she takes a break.

A break I'm glad she took.

A small smile forms on her lips "Yeah, I'm free tomorrow."

* * *

 _I give up trying, there are probably mistakes in the text but I don't care at the moment. I'm working on something else and maybe I'll get as far as posting...probably not though._

 _I'm rewriting a Mistake Worth Living for those who asked about that story I took down a while back. With Chandler being Monica's boss...yep, it's in the works._


End file.
